


The Arcade

by Juneocean



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Blood, Choking, Deepthroating, Gunplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut (chapter 2), The Arcade-freeform, Top!Elliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juneocean/pseuds/Juneocean
Summary: "I can't stop thinking about that night. The night we became gods."





	1. Chapter 1

And then she gets silent.

Her whole body goes limp. He feels through the veins of her neck, her pulse slow. He goes one, two, three steps back before he is leaning into a wall. His body quivering, hands trembling still in the shape of her neck. He still feels it on his hands, and he shakes them again and again and again, trying to get rid of it. He can feel tears pricking on his eyes.

Here, the lights of the other buildings don't illuminate the tower E-Corp has constructed. Here in the darkness of the rooftop, only he can see the shadow of the woman he just killed.

He runs.

Away from the shadows, through the stairs. Trying not to scream, to let the side of him that wants to throw up win.

He slows down when he hears the faint voices of the party. The clinking of wine and cheerful celebrations. He passes the room indifferently, while he tries to keep his face emotionless. His breathing suppressed in short inhales. He had grabbed a glass of champagne and he wants to crush it in his hands, that the glass cuts into his palm. Make it bleed _all over him_. The thing only stopping him is the idea of feeling his hand crush another thing tonight.

He has crossed half of the room unnoticed. The bar leading to the elevators is empty just for the lower paid associates who can't afford Chateaux Margaux for dinner. But they don't notice him.

Finally, he enters the elevator, and he has never felt so safe surrounded by walls. He presses the button once. Repressing the urge into pressing it constantly, knowing the security cameras recording each movement from above. Although he will hack and erase all the footage tomorrow, the thought of being watched in such unstable state forces him to calm down.

The alcohol on his system is starting to catch up, and it’s one of the reasons he was able to go to the rooftop. The adrenaline it's gone, and now the feeling of numbness is starting to replace it.

He drives.

 _She_ had asked for the bodyguard tonight, and Tyrell is on his own driving there. He doesn't mind because no one except himself will know where he is going. No one except himself will try to stop him.

Where is he going exactly?

He pulls over a gray mediocre apartment complex. It's late and he doubts anyone will be bothered by parking his car on the side of the street. Tyrell opens the car gloves box, rummages a little before feeling the familiar latex. He sees other items, doubting for a second before stuffing them in his pockets too.

The air outside is hotter by comparison from the rooftop. He makes his way to the complex's gate planning to make something up when a woman approaches the door and opens it.

"Here." she says harshly, holding it open for him while she leaves. She doesn't look at him, seeing she is upset by the way her eyebrows are knitted and her jaw clenched. The light brush off she gives him doesn't bother him as much as it would.

The stairs creak on his shoes and the obvious odor of marijuana lingers in the hall. He has never been here, even when he first discovered where Elliot lived. Back when Tyrell owned half of the world and invited Elliot to own the other half.

His door is half opened and he doesn't hesitate because he knows he is going to stop himself. The door creeks as he pushes it and the wind does the rest. Tyrell looks inside the apartment.

"The hell are you-"

"Shhh" he is quick in telling, quicker than Elliot was when he jumped off his couch upon seeing him.

Surprisingly it works, and Elliot quiets his protests. The last time they meet, he said he will contact him. But that was too long ago when he didn't want to accept that the reason that why he wanted to work with Elliot, was only revenge for losing his position on E-Corp.

Something else was there. Now, he has nothing to lose.

It looks like a shithole inside too, but the place smells like cinnamon and nicotine. There is no one except them, and Tyrell takes in that it's _Elliot’s smell_ all over the place. He takes his time, looking around the apartment. Closes the door, blocking it, turning around trying to think what to say next.

Who is he lying to? He has rehearsed this a thousand times on his head, but he is too afraid Elliot will not follow his script.

"I've been waiting outside your apartment until she left"

 _Lies._ He had to stop to count his steps in order of not going to fast, more than once he thought of passing a red light while driving here. More than once he thought about throwing all the plan to hell and barge in his apartment.

It partially lies, because it feels too late arriving to him.

Him. Who is a few meters of Tyrell. Standing petrified. He looks at him with those eyes, rounder than normal. Shock.

"I know your plan, all of it. FSociety, the server, AllSafe" and Elliot's eyes get rounder for a second. Tyrell knows he had already said this to him, in Coney Island on the inside of his car, but Elliot said he wasn't ready yet.

_I know your secret_

Now Tyrell reminds him what he knows, threatening him into finally accepting him. He is not sure he will agree, but it's his last chance in proving himself worthy.

"You are one constant in a sea of variables"

Of course he is. Once he overheard him talking to himself while making a routine check at AllSafe _. Are you a 1 or a 0?_ he had whispered. And Tyrell knows he is neither of those. Because Elliot is an X. The constant more important in all, the answer to all things, not simple binary. Yet, no one has figured out the value he represents.

And Tyrell doesn't care because he just wants to be part of the equation.

"Now-" he shuts the door, slides the locks on it. He hopes it looks like a threat to Elliot and not a pathetic attempt at keeping him from leaving him. _Again_. Is not the first time, and he knows it will not be the last one.

He takes his suit jacket off, partially because the air in here is suffocating. It's _too much_ of Elliot surrounding him.

He lowers his voice and seats at the edge of the table looking at Elliot who is still quietly regarding him. Tyrell uses the same technique, the same gestures of tranquility and power when he was playing the paper of second in line in charge of the most powerful company in the world.

"-I don't know what is your grand plan is about, but I need you to tell me about it" Elliot doesn't move, doesn't speak. Tyrell for once wants to know what's going in his head instead of silently reading his movements. He _needs_ to know his plan because he doesn't own half of the world anymore, but Elliot knows the code of how to.

The latex on his hands is a bizarre sensation, but he pulls out the gloves out of his pockets. The latex in his hands gives him some sense of fake protection. It's like the hoodie Elliot wears, is kind of his mechanism of defense. Because he is losing, and he breathes.

It isn't working, whatever this tactic he calls. The time is passing and he hasn't convinced Elliot in trusting him with his grand plan in taking over E-Corp.

"Two days ago, I strangled a woman to death" the words are out of his mouth before he can reason it, and it surprises him how easily and calmed he spoke them.

Was it really that long ago?

Elliot's breath hitches, and his mouth parts slightly. He expects for him to run, for him trying to get away from him. _Murderer_. But Elliot keeps standing there.

"Just with my hands. It's a strange sensation. Something so tremendous done by something so simple" his voice is the same tone he used when he meet him at AllSafe: authoritative, arrogant and an air of indifference on his words. As if wanting to be part of a worldwide terrorist hacking group is a big deal, as if killing a woman was a child's play.

"First 10 seconds were… uncomfortable"

The hitch of air, the pleads of help stopped by his hands. The struggling of her fingers trying to stop him. _I know it hurts. You know I'd quench that thirst._

"In that moment, it’s just you and absolute power. Nothing else. " He's the only person alive and now he is the one trying to catch his breath. Absolute power of this ending already. The sound of heels hitting the concrete are gone. _Feel your body closing, I can rip it open._ “That moment stayed with me”

He's not lying when he tells him this: despite doing what he had to do, he's finally paid his promise. _I want you to get rid of her_ she has ordered him.

He's now free to go to him.

He stands up. One, Two, Three. Steps forward, approaching Elliot, and he is surprised when he doesn't step back. Tyrell stops himself from being practically nose to nose, when he notices he can _feel_ Elliot's breathing instead of hearing it.

The smell is stronger when he is near, and he recognizes a tint of marijuana on him. Maybe that's the reason it makes him addicted being so close.

Or is it Elliot himself?

“I thought I’d feel guilty for being a murderer, but I don’t.”

They're looking at each other. The height difference makes him want to laugh because _he is looking down at Elliot_. Elliot's eyes are bloodshot and he has a lip cut that looks the result of biting them recently. Now that he is so close to him, all his features revolve around his eyes. Is too much to take, too much to memorize. And he wants to touch it all, wants to feel it because Elliot is one step away. The dim light from the streetlamps outside illuminate the wrong side of him, and his face is obscured by the darkness. Tyrell is the one who is seeable in the room, and it feels _so wrong_.

“I feel wonder” Is he talking about her still?

He feels the latex clenching in between his fists because for a second he wanted to run his thumbs over Elliot's cheekbones.

_Just give me an opportunity._

He has to remind himself that he can't do that. Elliot hasn't spoken a word to him, and he doesn't want to take his silence as the answer.

"I'll tell you"

 

* * *

 

 _FSociety_ , a sign reads above of an apparent abandoned Arcade.

“Sense of humor?” he says. Elliot moves his eyes up to get what he is talking about.

“Yeah.”

They have crossed a narrow corridor at the side of the building. Is it possible an outside place have a smell? He must smoke in here. He didn’t even know Elliot smoked tobacco.

_There's a lot of things he doesn't tell anyone. A lot of things he keeps secret._

It's dark and Tyrell keeps close to Elliot in excuse that he will get lost. He does. Lost in the way he breaths. It's slow and profound, and it brings tranquility to his own.

Then Elliot powers up the switch and moves away from him.

And he only hears his own.

He asks him questions he expects: _How long has this been going? What are you doing exactly? What about the backups?_

"You really thought of everything" He says it with a hint of amusement and surprise, but it's just a simple statement. It's Elliot, of course he thought of every detail.

"Who else was involved?" he can see various computers, and the place smells of disinfectant and Chinese takeout.

He already knows: Elliot's sister, an ex-drug dealer, a Muslim college student, and a Brooklyn hacker are Elliot's pawns. Wasn't that difficult isolating the people who took for a year a subway to Coney Island the same day as Elliot. But he still wants Elliot to tell him.

“Just me”

Tyrell nods. He's lying _._ Or maybe…? Could it be that Elliot doesn't need them anymore? That Tyrell is the only one that- _No._ No, he can't let his fantasies take control again. Elliot is protecting them from what comes after the attack.

He is nothing special to him.

“Well, now it's you and me” And it feels _so right_ on his lips. He can't believe he's speaking those words to him after so long. Elliot gives him a fulfillment in a way no one has ever seen. He tries to repress a smile, because _finally_ they will be working together, side by side. He puts his hands in his pants pockets trying to refrain himself something he will regret later “I always told you we would be ending up working together”

Elliot stays silent, but his silence gives Tyrell tranquility. His eyes wander to his face and he wants to get closer to him. _It's okay_ he wants to tell him _we are going to become gods and take them out together, you didn't had to worry._

But he stays silent as Elliot does.

A question starts surfacing, the first one he had when he first discovered Elliot was the causative of all this. He's no man of fame or of power, no revenge or spite. What does it motivate him?

“Still I have to know. Why did you do it? What did you hope to accomplish?” And it's sincere. His voice is soft when he asks it.

Elliot parts his lips, a moment almost unnoticeable if he wasn’t watching them intently.

He stares at him.

“I just wanted to save the world”

And for Tyrell, is just enough that Elliot saved him.

 

* * *

 

He walks in the place for a while. He has to say; American Arcades are far more different than the others. He passes the old stations and has to pretend he didn’t get scared when a sudden noise of a skee-ball suddenly went off.

Elliot hasn’t talked to him in some time. He's sitting in front of the computer. Tyrell stayed looking over his shoulder a couple of minutes but it was just seeing Elliot arguing with a _Whiterose_ (if his Mandarin is correct) over taking out E-Corp servers in China.

Now, the distant clicking of the keyboard gives him some kind company.

He wouldn’t mind listening to that sound every day if it’s coming from Elliot.

There's an FSociety mask. He had seen them all over the walls of E-Corp made by graffiti. All over Times Square over the faces of the lower class.

He puts it on and lets it settle for a moment. He sees Elliot through the two holes on it.

“Why the mask?” he asks, taking it off and looking at it sideways. “It’s a bit silly, isn't it?”

In a revolution, it's necessary for a symbol, something that tells: _I'm a follower of a group who doesn't want to follow anyone._

The clicking of the keyboard responds him.

Tyrell suppresses a sigh.

Something starts vibrating in his pocket pants. Tyrell looks at Elliot before taking out his phone. _James Hobbes_ it reads.

“Wellick” he answers.

_“It's James”_

“I see”

 _“If the honeypot is removed, it's going to be vulnerable to everyone,”_ he says and he sounds agitated.

“I understand”

_“The CEO of AllSafe called. If I take it out, everyone will know you ignored its request. If you continue they will know you did the attack. You will be on the run”_

“I'm aware of Mr. Goddar’s request but it needs to be removed this moment”

There's silence for a second in the other line _“Okay. It will be down in 10 seconds”_

“Thank you, James”

He gives a sigh upon hearing the end of the end call. Elliot doesn't know that Tyrell doesn't work at E-Corp anymore. He doesn't dare to tell him that he was fired because then _what is he useful for?_ He can get a hacker anywhere, but not the vice president of the company he wants to bring down, at his side.

“Should be ready” he informs Elliot, approaching where he is sitting. He is typing. Then he is not. His fingers are on the desk and he rests in the chair. Is that a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips?

“What is it?” he asks, going over the side of the screen.

“It’s happening”

Elliot moves away from the chair, giving him access to the computer. He sits on the chair and then. He sees it: a genius art been executed in front of his eyes. The Linux shows Elliot's accomplishments.

> _Executing FuxSocy_
> 
> _Generating Keys_
> 
> _* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * COMPLETE_
> 
> _Locating target files_
> 
> _* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * COMPLETE_
> 
> _beginning crypto operation_
> 
> _Encrypting/E-Corp_

There are people who are convicted because they refuse to decrypt their hard drives. But Elliot is destroying even the possibility of decrypting it. E-Corp's hard drive itself will be destroyed because it will be there, but no one could ever access it.

“It's-“ he says, he doesn't hide the admiration he feels “-almost as if something's come alive”

He is talking to Elliot, but he's completely lost of his surroundings. And he can’t take his eyes off the screen.

So he's taken off guard when something circular and hard presses against the back of his skull.

His whole body freezes, and he starts to move his head to the side. But then he hears a click behind him and he stops.

“I lied” a familiar voice says, and Tyrell let’s a long shaky breath “The hack wasn’t the only thing I needed you tonight”


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that goes to his head is  _how could I not notice it before._

Not about Elliot sneaking to his back and pointing a gun at his head. But the real thing he was blind on.

Why would Elliot need him after he helped him removed the honeypot? How foolish he was letting himself be tricked with the only thing he wished for.

Tyrell closes his eyes when he feels the barrel’s muzzle pressing further.

“Stand up”

Tyrell starts to notice his chest getting faster. Hears the metallic sound of fingers moving in the trigger guard. He puts his hands up to the sides of his head, slowly walking out of the computer. The gun follows him through the process.

He can’t hear Elliot’s voice, and his own breathing is the only sound that reminds him that this is happening.

 _He is going to kill me_  is the second thought that passes through his head  _Elliot is going to kill me_

And something stronger than fear is making itself present through his body: heartbreak, betrayal. Because Elliot lied.  _No_ , he didn’t lie. It was him who always assumed the things there weren’t even there.  _I always told you we would end up working up together_. And Tyrell was right, he always told him.

But Elliot never did.

“Turn around”

And he finds himself following with no hesitation Elliot's words. The hands up to his sides start to tremble when he sees him. Opening his eyes slowly. He's facing him.

Elliot is looking at him as if he was the most boring thing he had laid his eyes upon.

His breath is slow and passed, almost unnoticeable if Tyrell wasn’t comparing it with his own. His gaze goes down, where the gun he holds, lays in the front of his ribs. Elliot's fingers move slightly in the trigger and Tyrell's breath hitches.

“Please, Elliot”  _give me an opportunity_  he says, he thinks “Don't do this”  _I want to be at your side._

He repeats his name while Elliot just watches him unexpressive, hand never moving from the trigger. He cries to him.  _I know their secrets Elliot, you need me_ while he brings his hands from the sides to the front as a defense

The corner of his eyes is blurring with the familiar feeling he knows.

His lips tremble, his legs shake.

And then it all stops.

The first thing he sees is red tiles, followed by Elliot's shoes.

Then the floor impacts his body. He tries to scramble himself but finds it difficult when his spine and back hurt with every movement he makes. The second thing he notices, is the pain spreading through his face. His right cheek starts to numb itself.

He moves his mouth several times but his jaw is out of place. The ringing in his ears is still present. He is wriggling on the floor and it takes a moment to take that Elliot just hit him with the pistol.

There’s liquid filling his mouth and then it’s dripping on the corner of his lips. When his vision focuses again, Elliot is looking at him down. He sees him leaning where Tyrell is laying, on his back, on the floor.

“I never said you could talk”

Tyrell breathes harshly.

“I- didn’t- “

This time is the pistol on his lips that shuts him up.

“You can't help it” Elliot speaks and the sound makes him transfixed. Tyrell looks at him, eyes making an effort in focusing on seeing behind him “I see”

He’s about to speak, but then Elliot starts to move around him. His eyes follow the steps of dirty worn out shoes.

One, Two, Three. And then Elliot is standing at his side.

He feels his chest tightening and for once is not the result of his own breathing.

Elliot is now sitting on his body, a few inches away. Tyrell swallows hard as Elliot gets comfortable above him. He can feel his ass resting on his stomach, his fingers pressing into his chest.

This time, the gun isn’t pushed on him. Elliot holds it mere inches from his face, his mouth.

He inhales, sees Elliot moving slightly by the movement from his stomach.

What is  _he_  doing?

What should  _he_  do?

He never breaks contact with his eyes as he opens slowly his mouth.

He sticks his tongue out, holds the pistol on it. His lips wrap around the barrel while he begins bobbing his head. Teeth scrape the surface, filling his mouth with the metallic taste.

Or is it the metallic taste of his own blood?

Every inch he opens, every inch Elliot sinks in further. He draws out the barrel from his mouth just for his tongue tease the outline, he sucks the metal several times while looking at his eyes. He licks the muzzle and the taste of gunpowder stains his tongue.

Has he used it before?

_Will he use it on me?_

Something about that makes his suit pants tighter.

Elliot watches him with half open eyelids and he cocks his heads lightly to the side. But Tyrell knows he’s enjoying some part of this: the slightly parted mouth, sweat starting to make itself present on the sides of his temples and forehead.

And the obvious bulge in the front of his jeans.

He fastens his pace; the metal starts to heat up. He closes his eyes. Elliot is so close to his own groin.  _If he could just-_

Tyrell moves his hips. He trusts them up, trying to get some kind of friction from Elliot’s body.

But as soon as he does, the pistol is out of his mouth and the man on top of him is gone. He is about to apologize, when Elliot points the gun from where he is standing a few feet away. The barrel is stained with red.

“On your knees”

He lifts himself up from the ground, head still spinning slightly by the movement. He takes his suit jacket off, wraps half of his face on the garment and spits the blood off his mouth. He knows where this is going.

When he is done, he sees Elliot’s legs a few meters away. And he crawls to him.

The floor tiles are cold on his hands and his knees hurt, but it’s not long when he stops in front of a pair of legs. He doesn’t look at him, instead, he runs his hands across the jeans. Up, and up. And he grinds his face on his legs, feeling the denim all over his skin. Trying to get to touch more of him.

He’s going to get to touch him.

He’s going to get to touch  _him_.

He inhales, while his nostrils are filled with the worn-out fabric. He stops his hands, his face, and he exhales. His head moves up, where the front of Elliot’s jeans is. Now he looks up, while his teeth hold his zipper. Down his mouth goes and with it the metal. His hands undo the buttons of his jeans a little too quick. But he doesn’t mind showing his impatience because he finally sees it.

He has to take another breath upon seeing the outline of his cock through his boxers briefs. Elliot is half hard and it hits him that  _he caused him that_. He smells clean, and of soap. He mouths the fabric, and whines when he wraps his length through it. He soaks his briefs wet with his saliva. Tyrell is taking his time, trying to tease Elliot a little. Trying to make this as best as possible for him.

His jeans are still on, and Tyrell keeps them that way when he pulls down his briefs just enough to grab his cock.

He doesn’t look at him while he takes him on his palm.

Elliot can imagine he is a different person: his own hand, the hooker, not him. He doesn’t mind, is not the first time he has fancied another person while being with someone else. Is not the first time he has imagined  _Elliot_ while being fucked.

His cock is bigger than average, and it almost fits in his hand. He pumps it, trying to get him hard. It slowly does, but he doesn’t hear a sound coming from Elliot. The gun lays at his side, but his grip doesn’t harden.

So he makes a better effort. He sticks his tongue flat out and licks his length. Mouthing the side of his member with his mouth from base to top. He kisses the head before he is beginning bobbing his head up and down, up and down. A rhythm he knows and he sets. What he can’t reach, for now, he wraps it around his hand and strokes it. There’s an occasional curse on Elliot’s lips, but otherwise, he stays silent, and he makes no sound, no movement. So he just sets a fast pace, with excessive saliva and teasing.

He closes his eyes and attempts to take him all in his mouth.

Elliot wraps his hand lightly on his hair, and Tyrell feels pride run over him. But it’s still not enough. His jaw aches from the hit Elliot gave him with the metal earlier, so it hurts having his mouth this opened. Still, he closes his eyes and tries to get his whole length. He is almost half way in when he backs up coughing.

He is breathing heavily, and he is about to try again when he feels Elliot pull his cock away from his mouth. He starts to panic. But then Elliot is grabbing his jaw with his hand, and he is directing his gaze up. Fingers sinking on his skin. He makes him stare at his face, at his eyes.

Gray blues look at him from above.

 _“You are not looking what is above you”_   his voice is deep and rough.

He feels a wave of shame pass through him, but he can’t look away. He starts making saliva inside his mouth before he leans in again. This time he doesn’t waste his time in teasing him, taking him quicker than before.

He tries to concentrate, it’s not the first time he has done this. But he doesn’t care about them, because Elliot is regarding him down, with a mix of indifference and a look that says Tyrell is incapable of doing it. Tyrell just hollows his cheeks further.

It’s hard to keep his eyes opens while he takes his cock in his mouth, but he does it. Tears are starting to run over his cheeks slowly, but it feels so good  _this_  is the reason that it's causing them. His hands lay on Elliot’s hips to steady his head while he relaxes his throat.

He is pulling out when the head of Elliot’s cock hits him on the back of his throat. But then rough hands are keeping him in place with a firm grip.

“I can’t do it anymore” Elliot breathes while the fingers on his hair tightens “Shit”

Tyrell coughs, trying to wriggle his way out by pushing himself off by Elliot’s hips. But instead, Elliot presses further. His lungs are starting to ache, saliva is dripping down his chin and into his neck.

Tyrell calms down when Elliot is pulling back, but then he trusts his face forward again.

And Elliot is fucking his mouth.

The feeling of fear dies out, washing out and instead of putting resistance he lets Elliot guide his head.

He is grinding his overpriced suit pants against the floor. Getting dizzy by the movement even if Elliot’s not that rough with him: a long deep pace that hits the back of his throat every time. He tries not to choke, but the sound makes Elliot’s cock twitch on his mouth.

Tyrell starts to trace his tongue along his member, and he actually moves himself along with Elliot. His own cock twitches every time Elliot positions his hands, and his hair is pulled from the roots by it. Elliot is cursing and Tyrell dares to close his eyes and savor the feeling of him. He isn’t afraid of Elliot hitting him again: he is throwing his head back while he bites his lip.

But he doesn't get to enjoy it as he so wishes, because Elliot is forcing himself out of his mouth. Forcing Tyrell stop hollowing his cheeks into his cock.

Tyrell opens his eyes and looks at him. He takes a deep breath: redden cheeks, bitten lip, and he's sweating, making his skin glow under the arcade neon lights.

By the look Elliot is giving him, he hopes he is doing a better job than him: part of his disheveled hair covering his face, the glistening trail his saliva has left from his mouth to down his neck, competing with the one his tears had left. Swollen red lips from using them so much on him, but Tyrell wants to use them on Elliot's owns.

Elliot brings his hands to Tyrell’s face, and he caresses his head on his palms and fingers.

His legs protest when he lifts himself up from the ground, but Elliot helps him.

More exactly brings him up just to push him into the desk. Elliot shoves the contents on it into the floor, before Tyrell's back is hitting the surface.

They are still fully dressed up, except for Tyrell whose suit jacket lays on the floor. Elliot grabs Tyrell's tie, the lace flowing through his fingers, and then through a fist. He is pulled from the desk, and Elliot's face meets him half way.

"Yes" Tyrell says. Before Elliot can say anything. Anything with words, because he has seen what those eyes are telling them.

"Yes" he repeats, and this time he kisses him.

Elliot reciprocates a second too long, and then he is making Tyrell’s whole self lose it. Open mouth and Tyrell brings his hand to his head and feels his undercut while Elliot pulls the tie closer to him. It’s fast and desperate with spit mixing on them, and he is breathing hard in those seconds he has to take his mouth off his. Tyrell feels Elliot’s hands on his dress shirt, untying his neck tie followed by the buttons. And now he is feeling the coldness of the place, the wood of the desk. He brings Elliot closer, and he feels the dirty hoodie on his skin, grazes against it. Elliot is undoing his suit pants now and he whimpers when Elliot ignores the bulge on the front.

He is about to take them off when Elliot’s hand palms on the front pockets, and he takes outs its contents. He’s holding some packets of lube and a condom.

Tyrell's eyes rounded for a moment upon seeing them, his cheeks heat up.

“You wanted to get fucked so badly?” if it’s a question, he says it as a statement.

“I-I- “

Elliot grabs his jaw and brings his lips to the side of Tyrell’s ear.

“Good” he whispers.

Elliot is taking his hoodie off, grabbing his undershirt with it while he lifts it above his head. The black garment was not the best for this, and now he reveals bronze skin stained by sweat.

Elliot places de packages on the desk, and now he takes Tyrell’s suit pants off. He takes his briefs off too and throws them into the floor. His movements are quick, but he ignores the whimpers Tyrell gives him to touch him.

Elliot lifts Tyrell’s hips, putting him more comfortably on the desk. Or more positioned for him to work him out. Tyrell wishes is the latter, but he knows is not.

Tyrell lays on the desk, fake wood sticking into his sweaty skin, and closes his eyes. He hears Elliot ripping the packet of lube and the indistinguishable sounds of wet noises over fingers. Tyrell wants to tell him he doesn’t need preparation, it’s have not been that long since he has used his body for businesses, but he stays silent while Elliot slowly puts a finger on his entrance. He relaxes and the pain is not as strong as he wishes it was, but he lays there, while his nails dig the wood just for them to graze in the fake surface. He slows his breathing and looks at the ceiling.

Then he feels something cold and metallic press into his hole and Tyrrell's entire body goes rigid.

 _The pistol_ , he had completely forgotten about it.

Tyrell tries to stop him, but the barrel has already entered him, and he just tries to breathe and calm himself.  _This is the pain he had been waiting._

Elliot begins to trust it slowly and Tyrell bites his lip. The pistol and his fingers are too much to take so soon, but his cock currently dripping with precum says otherwise.

It’s not long before he feels Elliot taking off his fingers and then the gun. He opens his eyes and Elliot rips the package and slides the condom on his cock pumping it a few times. He lays the gun somewhere in the desk and Tyrell is disappointed a little. Elliot positions his hips and the rough treatment makes his cock twitch.

But Elliot is looking him in the eyes. Tyrell doesn’t recognize what they are saying. And he knows them better than Elliot’s words.He doesn’t have time to overthink. So, he just kisses Elliot. He doesn’t have time to overthink.

He feels Elliot’s cock enter him, and he stops his lips to press his forehead on his. He is breathing hard and he relaxes because the pain is so good but for Elliot is not. Elliot’s hands go from his ribs to his hips. Tyrell vision is blurring, because he has Elliot’s cock inside him and every time he clenches his entrance Elliot groans. And now Elliot is moving and he doesn’t stop himself and the moan it is out of his lips.

The sounds echo accompanied by the hitting of skin their hips make. Tyrell kisses him while his hands go to different places of Elliot’s body: his back, his face, his shoulders, his stomach. Not knowing what place is better, and him finding himself not being able to choose. He meets his thrusts with his hips and Elliot bites Tyrell's lip enough to draw blood.

His cock is trapped between them and it bounces with every thrust, Elliot’s hands move from his hips to his thighs and he holds Tyrell's legs at the sides of his ribs. Tyrell moans, the new position gives Elliot’s more access, deeper inside. Tyrell is digging his nails on him, trying to mark his back. Part of him doesn’t want to ruin the perfect brown skin with his nails. The track marks are part of him but Tyrell’s nails are not.

The other part that makes him do it is the thought of him becoming his. Even if the weeks they last on him before they fade away, it will be enough. For him. It’s selfish wanting to keep him all for himself, but he is the only thing that matters. The only thing he needs, and the only thing he can’t have.

Forever.

His pace quickens and Tyrell’s whole body is shaken by the pleasure, he holds himself into his back, and he bites Elliot’s shoulder to keep himself from losing his voice. Then Elliot hits a particular spot inside him and Tyrells just  _melts_ into him. He is moaning, screaming his lungs out. A whore would have more dignity than him.

He pushes Elliot’s hips into him with his legs, while Elliot uses his now free hands to travel to Tyrell's body. He sighs when he feels thick fingers graze across his sweaty skin, his back, his chest, but they stop at his neck. Then those fingers are pressing into his throat, cutting his moans short.

With every trust he gives, his grasp tightens. And Elliot’s pace fastens on purpose.

And he can feel himself passing out. His vision is starting to blur and the pounding of his heartbeat increases. Increases as the pressure on his throat does. His hands are shaking and he starts to bring his fingers up. He wants Elliot to stop,  _it’s too much_ , but his digits instead travel to Elliot’s face, to his jaw, and his fingers wave across his skin. While he is starting to lose the sight in front of him. 

And Tyrell moves his hips faster, wants to stay somehow in this state. He tries to moan, but the sound stays on his Adam’s apple. The pain a pleasure mixes perfectly.

_Is it the pain of being choked?_

_The pleasure of being fucked?_

Because he exposes his neck further to him and he’s sure he’s going to pass out in any second now, but it’s just as good as Elliot’s cock on him. Just as good as running his thumbs across Elliot’s cheekbones while he holds him down.

Then Elliot’s hands around his throat are gone.

And Tyrell is coughing and gasping for air.

Is not long when Elliot is pushing his lips on his. He steals the breath Tyrell doesn’t have, but then he supplies more with his own.

So he kisses him desperately because he is the only source of oxygen he has. Elliot’s hand travels to his hips, moving them into the rhythm of how he bites his lip, how the clicking of teeth can be heard.

Tyrell rests his forehead on his, breathing heavily, hands wrapping around the back of Elliot’s neck. His legs are trying to give up, but he tightens the hold in Elliot’s hips.

He’s crying, because this is happening, _and it’s so good._

Elliot is moaning curses under his breath and Tyrell wants to stop the noises he is making to hear him. For Elliot to remind him he’s not the only one losing himself with somebody’s body. Losing it to him.

But he doesn’t because Elliot does a particular trust and his whole body shakes. Elliot holds his chest down the desk, while he focuses on hitting that spot that makes him whimper. Tyrell is moaning and his nails have stained with some blood, Elliot is hitting his prostate with every thrust.

He feels himself close and he warns Elliot while his lips tremble. He opens his eyes and sees Elliot holding the so forgotten gun and Elliot points it at his throat.

He doesn’t need words for Tyrell knowing what he is ordering to do. He is choking out Elliot’s name over and over again, and the gun is out of his throat and in the air.

Elliot pulls the trigger, the sound echoing over the place.

Tyrell comes with the sound.

He is coming untouched, spilling himself between their stomachs. Untouched from his cock because he can’t remember where Elliot’s hands have not passed on his skin.

Is not long before he feels Elliot grabbing his hips and then he empties himself in a trust.

Elliot is breathing heavily and Tyrell closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

When he opens them again, Elliot is gone from his body.

He feels the cum on his stomach has been cleaned lazily, before he sees his suit jacket on the table was the one who caused it. He moves, and his muscles aches. There’s blood on his fingernails and saliva and sweat all over him. He finds his dress shirt and puts it on followed by his pants. The aftermath is not as pleasing at it is.

Elliot is gone,  _isn’t he._

He tries to fix his hair but gives up when he finds it useless. He is buttoning his shirt when he hears an exhale. He stops his movements and turns to the sound of the source.

Elliot is reclining on a popcorn machine completely dressed up, smoking a cigarette without a care in the world. He sees that Tyrell has spotted him and he exhales the intake. Tyrell walks to him.

“I thought- “

“I needed to give you something before” he moves his hoodie out of the way to reveal the gun on his waistband. He takes it out and hands it to him.

Tyrell takes it, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I want you to shoot anyone who tries to stop us” there's a cloud of smoke surrounding him, and Tyrell doesn't think its the best to do that indoors " _Anyone_ "

Tyrell feels the gun in his hands, cold metal on his skin.

“But we already- “

“-Finished phase one” he interrupts him, looking at the computer.

> _G_ _AME OVER_
> 
> _******************_
> 
> _E-Corp encrypted_

“There’s a phase two. I will contact you with more details later”

“Alright.” he says blinking, putting the gun in his own waist pant “I understand”

Elliot takes a long drag while Tyrell watches him. He is opening his mouth, about to  _ask_  when he cuts him shut.

“You understand what is this right?"he crosses his arms "A union we made for operation, nothing more than a professional attachment.”

“Yes. I understand” he ignores the pain on his chest, trying to convince himself is the same cause as the one all over his body.

Elliot watches him, he takes the last drag of the cigarette and moves to Tyrell's space. He grabs his face and pulls him down into a kiss. It's quick and without emotion. The nicotine smoke fills his mouth and then his lips are gone.

“This is the night we became gods” Elliot says. Tyrell looks at him while he exhales the smoke.

And _he feels wonder_.

“One more thing” Elliot says, shoving his hand into Tyrells pockets and grabbing his keys “I’m borrowing your car. I have an appointment with someone, and she doesn't like when I'm late” 

Elliot walks to the door and Tyrell watches him go away. While he feels the metal of the gun. While he can still taste the nicotine on his lips.

 

 

_“Goodbye, kiddo” Elliot says._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I hope you enjoyed reading it!  
> English is not my first language so I hope this ain't that bad?  
> I didn't tag Mr.R because is Tyrell's pov. Was it Elliot or him? is yours to decide. wink wonk  
> I was planning on going in a more detailed gunplay but I just kind of forgot? _"The pistol, he had completely forgotten about it"_ is me@calling myself out.  
>   
>  Kudos and comments appreciated! ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᶦᵐ ᵇᵉᵍᵍᶦⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ  
> Send me suggestions on [tumbler dot com](https://rami-senpai.tumblr.com/)


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